Court of Rogues Page 2

  I left it there. No need to spell out what I’d do to their sorry, shitty asses if they made a grab for Tatiana’s tits or any other part of her. I retreated to one side and wrapped myself in shadows. I wouldn’t remain long, only until the cleanup project was underway.

  I hadn’t realized I’d clenched my hands into fists, and I uncurled my fingers one by one. Damn it, anyway. Everything was broken—and I didn’t mean in this gaming room. I was here, straddling worlds, to mend what I could, but I hadn’t made much progress.

  Or any if I were honest.

  Aye, and when I start lying to myself, I’m done for, a patronizing inner voice spouted off.

  I wasn’t the source of the original damage. It could be traced directly to the Fae court, who’d decided it would be a grand idea to kick Faery’s gates open to mortals a century ago. Not that any of us ever cared about humans. We’ve always held them in contempt, but we wanted their money.

  They’d done a bang-up job stripping their world of everything salable and grown filthy rich in the process. My kinsmen are drawn by gold—and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sing to me as well. We all love wealth, which is strange since our creature needs are taken care of in Faery.

  At first, around the end of the 1800s, everything appeared to be going smoothly. We provided something not unlike a circus attraction for the well-heeled. One element none of us had reckoned on was Faery herself. Our land is alive, and she rebelled at the presence of those without power. Not right away, but when it happened the backlash was swift, sure, and brutal…

  Buckets clattered as they rolled across the faux wooden floor. Some establishments have carpet. Not mine. For just this reason. My impromptu work crew dug in. Two men looked as if they’d never seen a mop before, but after Tatiana taunted them for being inept dicks, they shaped up.

  I heard cheers from the strip show one floor up. No reason for me to stay here. I’d have it out with the dealers and croupiers at the all-staff meeting tomorrow afternoon. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I strolled through a wall, angling until I intersected a stairwell. Rather than naming the deserters, perhaps I’d be better served reiterating club policies to everyone.

  The more I considered it, the better I liked my idea. I’d gin up something and have everyone e-sign it. I started to head for the floor show. Getting a gander at bouncing breasts and shaved pussies always settled my mind. Or diverted it, anyway. My cock thickened where it was tucked into my trousers, and I curled my fingers around it, enjoying sensation as it skittered through me.

  Sex served as a reminder of the Witch. My cock grew more distended as I remembered her striking face and generous curves. To hell with the dancers in the lounge. I wanted the Witch—up close and personal.

  If she was still in Lady Luck, I’d weave a lust spell, make her see only me. My errant member twitched against my fingers. “Yes, yes,” I told my sidekick. “She’ll want you so much, she won’t be able to contain herself.”

  Rudy managed the blackjack and poker tables. A magnet for card counters, they spanned two rooms on the second floor. I couldn’t do much about my erection. It would be as useless as attempting to stuff a genie back into a bottle, so I crafted a diversion spell from my waist down. It would draw eyes away from the tented-out front of my pants.

  I bounded into the nearest chamber, gratified by the small noises that verified Lady Luck was making money. Chips clicking, dealers calling for bets, and cries of delight as patrons raked in cash.

  Rudy sidled up to me. “How’d it go?”

  “It’s handled. How about your assignment.”

  He screwed his face into an angry mask, adding ten years to his grizzled appearance. “I tried, but I’m not getting anywhere near that bitch ever again. She did something to her blackjack dealer.”

  “What do you mean, did something?” I added a jot of magical coercion to my question.

  “He’s not right. Won’t look at me. Won’t answer me.”

  Damn my eyes, it sure sounded like a hex. “Is she still at his table?”

  Rudy nodded. “I told the dealer not to authorize payout, but—”

  “Never mind. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Thanks.” For once, Rudy looked cowed, and embarrassed. Like most men, admitting defeat is right up there with swallowing glass shards.

  The Witch wasn’t in this room, so I crossed the hall and walked into the other one. The feel of her power smacked me mid-chest. Witch magic smells delightful. Aged whiskey and wildflowers with a touch of blood to blend everything together. This witch was old. I could tell from her scent and the extent of her power. It oozed from her and had wrapped around the dealer in visible strands.

  Oberon’s balls. She didn’t need to count cards. She had the dealer in thrall. What did she think she was? A fucking Vampire? Whatever game she was running, she could damn well take it elsewhere.

  I strode across the big room with its colorful tables. Horse races played on big screen televisions lining one wall. We took a bite out of bets placed on them too. Unlike a mortal, the Witch knew I was coming. I felt her attention, even though her back was turned.

  A long skirt swirled around her sandal-clad feet. Made of a pale green sheer material, it offered tantalizing glances of long legs and made it clear she hadn’t bothered with underwear. An equally sheer tunic made of silver fabric embroidered with violet runes covered her from shoulder to hip. Her shapely arms were bare. She told the dealer to hold up—in Gaelic—and he complied. I knew damn good and well Hector didn’t speak Gaelic. He’s Native American from a local reservation.

  How deep in trance did she have him, anyway, that he responded to commands in a foreign tongue?

  Slowly, tantalizingly, she twisted until she faced me, upper body first, followed by a two-step motion that bought her hips around. Her eyes were a pale, clear green, her face a study in perfection with high, slanted cheekbones, a regal forehead, and a strong chin.

  When she smiled and ran her tongue over her lush lower lip, I dropped a hasty ward around myself. She could dupe a mortal—snare them in her spells—but I was Fae, and my interest in fucking her had staged a dramatic retreat.

  The Witch angled her head to one side, still giving me come-hither vibes. “I know what you are,” she purred.

  Her words tossed still more cold water on my arousal. “Aye, and I know what ye are as well, Madame Witch,” I growled back in Gaelic. “Get out of my casino.”

  Her full lips formed a pout. “You’re no fun.” Her magic intensified, pummeling my warding.

  My control snapped and I grabbed her upper arm, squeezing hard. “Where is your coven? I will return you, as is my duty for any renegade Witch.” I’d stuck to Gaelic, and an archaic form at that. Zero chance of anyone understanding it—other than Witchy-gal.

  “No need to get tetchy.” She yanked her arm, but I held fast.

  “Your coven?” I added a whopping heap of compulsion to my query.

  Her face twisted in pain, and I had a momentary twinge of conscience for forcing her. “Don’t have one,” she ground out.

  Her reply had been true, but it shocked me. “Covens are a requirement,” I lectured. “After the Witch uprising of 1943—”

  A violent twist jerked her arm out of my grasp. “Don’t lecture me on my own history,” she hissed. “I’m…different.”

  “We all are, sweetheart,” I told her tartly. “Misfits attract magic.”

  Her lips twitched into half a smile. “Hate to admit it, but that’s catchy.”

  Fuckity-fuck. She was still trying to con me. “Yeah. Now beat it. And don’t come back.”

  “But I need the money.” Her pouty look was back.

  “Not my problem, darling. Turn tricks. Get an honest job. Before you go, release my dealer from whatever you did to him.”

  “If I do, will you hire me?”

  The question came out of left field, leaving me dumbstruck. Luckily, a loss for words never lasts long. I started to say hell would freeze ove
r before I’d offer her work, but something stayed my tongue.

  “Show up here at five tomorrow afternoon. We’ll talk about it.”

  She tilted her chin and ran her gaze from my toes to my head. Something about her direct stare got me going all over again, even through my warding.

  “Good enough.” She nodded and walked to the dealer. Reaching into his pants pocket, she withdrew a charm, breathed on it, and we both watched it disintegrate into motes of light.

  I eyed the dealer. He still stood motionless, a dreamy expression in place. “Get rid of the other ones too,” I told her.

  Breath swooshed from her mouth. “I was getting to them. Can’t hurry these things or he might turn into the village idiot.”

  Village idiots predated medieval times, so I asked, “How old are you?”

  “Never ask a lady her age,” she retorted and retrieved two more charms. By the time they were dead, the dealer was starting to look more like a man and less like a puppet.

  She regarded him and spoke a few words before turning to me. “There. Give it a few and he won’t remember a thing about any of this. See you tomorrow.” Her hips swung enticingly as she strode away.

  “What’s your name?” I called after her.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow. When I complete the employment application,” she replied in mind speech, not bothering to turn around.

  I was still sorting how a Witch had mastered telepathy, not a skill native to their magic, when the dealer made a grunting noise. “Boss. What happened? I feel…off.”

  “Take a break,” I told him. “Back to your table in fifteen.”

  Without waiting for more questions, I walked out of the card room. It was only an hour from closing time. I could skip the rest of tonight’s never-ending drama and slip into Faery. My magic needed a boost, and my mind a rest. The mortal world dragged at me, drained my essence, and made me long for an earlier time.

  One before we’d opened our doors to humankind.

  2

  Chapter Two, Cyn

  I took the nearest staircase and just kept on walking after I passed the basement. No one without magic could even see this part of the stairs, but they led through one of many gateways into my realm. One thing we did during the years we curried favor with mortals to lighten their wallets was escorted them into Faery. It was very cloak and dagger, blindfolds and all. Plus we carved little holes in their memories and dropped broad hints we were traveling through mirrors.

  What a crock. Mirrors have never led into Faery, and I hope a passel of humans have dealt with serious injuries trying to force their way through glass.

  The subtle pressure change that presaged leaving Earth for Faery buffeted me. Damn, it was welcome. Inhaling deeply, I shed my glamour. It’s not exactly a power pig, but keeping it in place hour after hour takes a toll. No place smells quite like my domain. It’s a cross between spring in the forest and the salt tang of a restless sea. You only get seasons in Faery if you choose. The land is accommodating like that.

  Small sounds filled my ears from the creatures, large and small, who called Faery their home. Pausing to let the experience wash over me was hard to resist, but I pressed onward. I’d stop once I reached the castle. Spanning three hilltops, Dubrova Castle had provided a home for Fae royalty since the dawn of our time, which predated the beginnings of human reckoning by thousands of years.

  A unicorn cantered past, golden horn glittering in the westering sun. I hailed him, but he didn’t slow down. Usually, they’re quite chatty, so his snub surprised me. The sun never actually sets here. Instead, it hangs suspended on the horizon until Faery gives the order and drags it back across the sky to begin its transit once again. Sometimes the process takes a few hours, other times a few months.

  Oberon and Titania used to be our link to the land, but they’re gone. No one knows where. I’ve always believed the land is mourning for them, but that might be over-the-top sentimentality. Regardless, Faery hasn’t been the same since mortals came to visit and our regents left.

  The two events were concurrent in time.

  The king and queen never warmed to the idea of humans in our midst. They made their displeasure known, but none of us thought they’d pick up and leave. Even after they did, we assumed they’d return. They still might. A hundred years is nothing for us, but with each passing month, my expectations waned. Titania had dropped in from time to time. She’d never stayed long enough to have much of a conversation, but her visits had ceased abruptly fifty years ago.

  Had Faery’s king and queen made another life for themselves in some distant land? Adopted new subjects—more compliant ones—and written us off?

  Eh, it didn’t matter. Dubrova’s turrets popped up on the horizon, followed by the rest of the imposing structure as I climbed toward it. Built of magic and stones mined from the sea, its walls were iridescent. Their pastel shades glowed in the fading rays of the sun. A crowd was gathered at the bottom of broad graceful steps on the far side of the moat. For once, the portcullis was down.

  The gate’s position gave me pause since it was never down. Were we under attack from somewhere? The resident serpents, cousins to dragons, swam lazily in the moat’s turquoise waters, their black triangular heads bobbing above the surface. They didn’t appear concerned, and they were quite the gossip mongers.

  In all of Faery’s storied history, no enemy had breached our barriers. The moat and portcullis were for show. The Fae who’d built them had a penchant for the pomp and circumstance of an earlier era. One that embraced showy displays of power. Those Fae had long since retired to the Dreaming. I visited occasionally, but not since I ended up running Lady Luck.

  Since I’d have to employ enchantment anyway to get past the portcullis, I jumped skyward, intent on landing in the midst of the crowd. Mostly Fae, but I picked a few Sidhe out of the crowd, along with nymphs, satyrs, a herd of unicorns, and two dragons. So this was where the unicorn had been heading in such a rush. The dragons got my blood flowing. They wouldn’t have left Fire Mountain if it weren’t important. Every once in a while one traded blasts of steam and smoke with the serpents in the moat.

  No love lost there, distant relatives or not.

  I tumbled to the ground slightly to the left of my target, and hit harder than I would have liked. Not the elegant entrance I’d hoped for, but my pride was small potatoes in the long run. Dusting myself off, I sprang to my feet to cries of my true name ringing sweetly in my ears.

  The unicorn who’d galloped past me sidled near and lowered his head, taking care with his horn. The beasts only look whimsical. They can gore a beast twice their size, whinny up a storm while it died, and then eat what they’d killed. “Sorry for not stopping,” he neighed.

  I patted his neck. “No worries. I was enjoying being home. Earth isn’t an especially commodious spot tonight.”

  “Or ever.” The unicorn rubbed his horn up and down my arm in a show of solidarity.

  “Good thing he saw you,” my cousin Aedan called from across the green. “Saved me from sending someone to tell you to return.” Next in line for Faery’s throne after me—assuming Oberon and Titania were truly gone for good—he swept a fall of pale hair behind broad shoulders.

  I walked over to him, and we touched palms, mixing magics for a moment in greeting. He’s shorter than my seven-foot height by a few inches, and more broadly built. The bulk I sport on Earth is part of my glamour. It’s only my height that doesn’t change. Aedan’s usually impeccable garb—leather trousers and vest—were dusty. Rather than his customary sandals, his feet were bare.

  A fiery blast from behind me suggested the dragons were growing impatient. They never did wait well. My longed-for rest, where I lounged in my chamber reading books and experimenting with spells, while I mapped out a strategy to deal with the Witch who wanted to work for me, wasn’t in the cards. Lucky for me, Fae don’t actually require sleep.

  I glanced at the growing crowd, hoping someone would offer up clues, but no one d
id. I’ve spent enough time among humans to have grown used to their communication style. It’s refreshing and direct—one of the few things I respect about them. On the other hand, we Fae pride ourselves on oblique words, dialogue that leaves others guessing. We live forever, and there are so few secrets left to uncover we savor the ones that pop up. After a few minutes had ticked past, I folded my arms across my chest and announced, “I’m going inside.”

  “But you can’t leave,” Aedan protested.

  “Not much is happening out here,” I retorted and turned on my heel, walking quickly to underscore my threat of abandonment.

  The dragons launched their bulks skyward amid the clatter of scales. A stray spray of flames set a small bush on fire, but one of the serpents blasted it with water after bugling his displeasure.

  “Cynwrigg ap Llyr.” Aedan invoked my true name and bowed low, an atypical gesture.

  I spun to face him. “I’m not inclined to play games. Either tell me why everyone is gathered, or I’m retiring to my chambers. I’m due back at Lady Luck in a short while, and I am not in a good mood.”

  One of the dragons, the blue one, skidded in for a landing scant inches from my feet. I angled my gaze his way. If he so much as tossed a cinder onto my boot tops, I’d send him packing.

  “How does it happen you left Fire Mountain?” I asked when he appeared just as loathe to speak as everyone else.

  Aedan cleared his throat. “The dragons have a problem—” he began.

  The dragon sitting in front of me had curled his upper body well off the ground, so his head sat even with mine. His eyes spun like pinwheels, golden with deep-green centers. He opened his mouth, displaying triple rows of razor-sharp teeth with shreds of his last meal still clinging to them.

  “Nay,” he bugled, drowning Aedan out. “All of you have a problem. Fire Mountain is merely the leading edge.”

  “Leading edge of what?” I ground out.

  “Ye’ll recall, Fire Mountain was the first of the magical worlds,” the dragon recited in a tone that reminded me of a million-year-old history professor.